My Dad calls my cell phone at work. Dad never calls me at work. (In fact, he even balks at calling me on the weekends, on the off-chance I might be working. He doesn't want to upset the precarious balance of me being gainfully employed and not borrowing money from him.)

I can't answer it due to a client in the office, but I'm a little concerned, because Dad calling me during the work day would mean some sort of significant disaster, on the order of 1) One of your relatives is dying, 2) The house has burned down and we're moving in with you, 3) The DVD player has started putting Spanish subtitles on everything and I can't shut it off.

He calls again, two minutes later. (By now I'm thinking that maybe my mother has been abducted by aliens and my whole town has been swallowed up by an earthquake.)

Dad: "Did you just call me?"Me: "No, you just called me."Dad: "I know. I'm talking to you right now."Me: "... no, no, you called me a minute ago."Dad: "I did? Is that why your name was on my phone?"Me: "... so no one's dead?"Dad: "Nope. Wrong button. Go back to work, bye!"